


A Question Asked In Person

by Thorinsmut



Series: Balin and Hobbits [3]
Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Complete, F/M, also apparently cute Baby Dwarves, and a healthy dose of friend-shipping fluff, scientifically formulated to make you feel happy, this is probably going to be about 95percent BAMF ladies by volume
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-06 22:14:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/740724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorinsmut/pseuds/Thorinsmut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emmi (That's Miss Emerald Cotman to you, thanks) should have known that she would never be a respectable Hobbit again.<br/>There was no helping it now.<br/>She knew what she had to do. </p><p>Post-quest, a Hobbit lady has a question to ask of Balin.<br/>Balin is in Erebor, therefore <i>she</i> will go to Erebor.<br/>Don't get in her way.</p><p>part of a series but can stand on it's own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [My Mother](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=My+Mother).



> Hi!  
> Welcome to my latest series. I don't think it's going to be a long one, but I'm notoriously bad at telling how long things are going to turn out.  
> I decided to write this because my Mother has been going through a really rough patch and I was sending her my GEN-rated stories to cheer her up. My Balin and Hobbits series, which I felt was over, made her really sad... so I decided to write this for her.  
> I hope you enjoy reading this story.  
> <3  
> -TS

Emmi (That's Miss Emerald Cotman to you, thanks) should have known that she would never be a respectable Hobbit again once she took a Dwarf for a lover. 

There was no helping it now. 

What was done was done, and she knew what she needed to do. 

She squared her shoulders and knocked on the round green door of a Hobbit she'd never been introduced to, and a bachelor at that. 

“Mister Baggins.” she said, when a smart-looking Hobbit gentleman a little older than she was answered the door, “I hear you know some Dwarves...” 

 

Bilbo served tea. 

Miss Cotman, (a distant relative of his gardener's apprentice, if he wasn't mistaken), had been all business until they both realized that the Dwarf she was searching for was one Bilbo knew. 

With all that traveling together, Balin had never let on that he had known Hobbits any better than the other Dwarves, but Miss Cotman was proof of it. 

The two had apparently been together for five years before Thorin called for Balin, almost two years ago now. Miss Cotman had only _just_ heard the story of Bilbo running off with Dwarves, and had latched on to it as the only connection she could find. She traveled to Hobbiton, hoping that he could get her in contact with Dwarves, whom she could then ask about Balin. 

There was steel in her brown eyes when she talked about how she planned on searching for as long as it took to find him. 

Bilbo would not like to be standing between her and her goal... and was very glad he was in a position to help her. 

Bilbo hadn't really thought that _Balin_ would be of interest to, well, _anyone_ , but there was no denying way she smiled when she described him – so polite, and such a luxurious white beard, and such fine pointed boots – there was no denying her Balin was the same as the one Bilbo knew, and also that she was in love with him, though she had not said so. 

“There is a question I need to ask him.” was all she would say. 

Now, she was sitting across from him in the little corner nook, reading the letter Balin had sent him from Erebor, and quietly sniffling. 

She thanked him for the tea and wiped her eyes and nose in the handkerchief he offered her.

“This is him.” she said, pressing the letter to her chest, “It's his writing, and his voice... it's him.” 

“Well.” Bilbo smiled, “We can write him a letter back and send it with the...”

“No.” she interrupted, firmly, steel in her eyes again, “This is a question that needs to be asked in _person_.” 

“The Lonely Mountain is a _long_ ways away.” Bilbo pointed out. 

Her eyes didn't waver, “How do I get there?” she asked. 

 

It turned out that Mr. Baggins had a few connections with Dwarves, and was able to discover a caravan leaving Ered Luin and traveling toward Erebor. They would be passing through Bree in about a month's time, and he had made sure to guarantee her a place in it. 

In the mean while, Emmi had moved in to one of Bag End's spare rooms, and Bilbo was doing what he could to prepare her for her journey. 

The neighbors talked, of course, but both of them had given up being respectable long ago. 

Bilbo was an absolute sweetheart. 

He kept a very nice house, despite being a bachelor, and his kitchen was to _die_ for, but what Emmi appreciated the most was that he knew what she would need on a journey. 

She would never have considered wearing breeches under her dress if he hadn't shown her his mother's adventuring clothes, that she'd worn in her youth. 

The dress was sturdy and plain, but scandalously short, and under it were breeches. He gave her a few pair of his breeches, since they were of a similar size, and she modified them to fit, but she didn't shorten her dresses. 

She was not _that_ shameless. 

When he realized she didn't have the money to buy all the things he was telling her she needed, he bought them for her, waving off the expense. 

“For a friend of Balin's,” he smiled, “It is the _least_ I can do.” 

She had a beautiful leather pack, very waterproof, and a lovely warm wool cloak, and sturdy bedding. She had a little sewing kit and a small medical kit and a kit of toiletries. He made sure she had food for the road, since he warned her the Dwarves would only be eating three meals a day – making twice-baked honey-cakes who's recipe he claimed to have gotten from a Man who could change into a bear, and making sure she had a stock of dried fruits and nuts to snack on as she walked. 

His eyes grew a little haunted when he spoke of wishing he'd had a better stock of food at times during his adventure. 

Bilbo also purchased her a small dagger, to be worn hung from a belt, which he also gave her. He said he couldn't really teach her to use it, but that you could get surprisingly far if you remembered that the sharp bit went toward the enemy and used the element of surprise. 

In the evenings they smoked together out on the front step and told one another stories. Emmi dearly loved to hear about Balin, Bilbo knew him as a fierce warrior and a good friend, and it was nice to learn of another side of him. 

She wasn't sure she believed the stories about his brother, though. She could not imagine anyone related to Balin being anything but as sweet and endearing as he was.

The month passed quickly, and Bilbo accompanied her to Bree to meet the caravan. 

He took both her hands in his, looking her in the eye. 

“They'll be loud,” He warned one final time, “and rude, and make terrible jokes; and they'll underestimate you and treat you like a child because you look _young_ to them, but just be yourself. You've got iron in you, and they'll respect that... once they've accepted you, you'll not find a better group of friends in all the world.” 

“You've told me a million times.” she smiled, and Bilbo nodded, laughing a bit ruefully at himself. He reached into his pack and brought out two small bundles. 

“A little Old Toby to warm the road, Dwarven pipe-weed is _terrible_...” he said, passing her the first, “And a little gold, just in case... sorry it smells like trolls.” 

Emmi accepted both gratefully. He watched her stow them in her pack, and then led her into the camp of Dwarves. 

She had one last ping of anxiety in her gut, but she quashed it. 

She had given up being a respectable Hobbit long ago. 

She knew what she had to do, and if doing it meant traveling halfway across Middle Earth with a group of Dwarves, she would do it. 

Miss Emerald Cotman walked into the boisterous camp beside Bilbo Baggins with her chin held high. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allow me to introduce the main cast.

It was a small caravan, but Bilbo had assured her that thirty Dwarves was more than enough to keep her safe against any enemy. 

He had warned her, again and again, how rowdy a group they would be, but she was still surprised by it. It seemed there was constant shouting and laughter, and wrestling amongst the younger Dwarves. Emmi was honestly more worried about being accidentally smashed by wrestling Dwarves than she was of meeting enemies on the road. 

Bilbo had made sure she was introduced to the leader of the caravan, a stocky gray-bearded Dwarf by the name of Thridi who was a miner by trade, and they looked over the map together – She and Bilbo with Thridi, discussing the route the caravan would be taking. 

They were taking the Northern passes through the Misty Mountains, and skirting the edges of the Gray Mountains as they passed north of Mirkwood. Bilbo seemed pleased that they would be avoiding Mirkwood... and after hearing Bilbo's stories of the spiders in that place, Emmi was certain she was glad of it too. 

All too soon Bilbo was gone and Miss Emerald Cotman was alone with Dwarves, all of whom had been introduced to her in a whirl, and almost none of who's names she remembered. 

There were a dozen ponies for the entire group, which meant that almost everyone walked. As they all set out, Emmi caught Thridi and a few other Dwarves discussing packing her onto a pony, as though she were just another piece of luggage, arguing about what supplies to put on which ponies to make room for her. 

Just as Bilbo had warned her, treating her like a child. 

“Excuse me.” she said, firmly. “You might have asked if I _wanted_ to ride a pony... and the answer is _no_. I am fully capable of walking, and carrying my own pack.” 

Thridi gave her a look that said he'd believe it when he saw it, but he nodded. 

“If you hold us up, you're going on a pony.” He said. 

“I won't.” Emmi asserted. She didn't break eye contact, staring him down until he nodded again and turned away. 

The Dwarves _would_ learn that she was not a child or a piece of luggage, and she would not put up with being treated as such. 

 

It took Emmi most of the first day of travel to realize she wasn't the only lady in the group, but she felt she could be forgiven for that – the Dwarves were all wearing breeches and they were all heavily armed and, well... 

_beards_

but then again, she shouldn't have been surprised by that. 

She wasn't actually sure how _many_ ladies were in the group. The first she'd realized was Cai, when the sling across the Dwarf's shoulder began to wiggle and squall and Emmi realized there was a baby in it. Cai nursed the baby as they walked, bouncing and humming just like any mother – even if she did have a beard. 

Emmi drifted through the group to walk beside Cai. She definitely had a sparser beard than many of the Dwarves, with her chin bare and her luxuriant sideburns braided back into the coils of her golden-brown hair. 

Emmi wondered if _that_ was the way to tell the lady Dwarves from their menfolk – the thickness of their beards, but she was sure some of the thinner beards she was seeing were from youth... 

Emmi tried to separate out the ladies, there were about five she was almost sure of... but she wasn't _completely_ sure. She decided to be careful about what words she used... not that anyone was doing much talking with her anyway. 

“What's the baby's name?” she asked. She'd never met a mother yet who didn't like to talk about their babies, and Cai was no different. Soon enough she found herself holding a cooing Juni as she walked and Cai and her husband Bruni talked about how he was the finest and cleverest little darrow in all of Middle Earth. 

She had to admit he was an adorable pudgy little armful of toddler, if surprisingly heavy for his size, and so _cheerful_... 

She rubbed noses with him, which made him giggle, and held him close to her chest, feeling that familiar little ache in her heart. 

He was _exactly_ what she had always wanted... 

Soon enough little Juni wanted to go back to 'ama', and Emmi gave him back to Cai, who smiled at her. 

They walked side-by-side the rest of the day, and even if they didn't talk much, it was a companionable silence between them. 

 

Emmi was exhausted at the end of the day's travel. She was no wilting flower, but the pace had not been gentle and her pack, light though it was, had grown very heavy by the end of the day. She was more than happy to put it down when Thridi announced they were stopping. 

The caravan had been traveling together for a while, so everyone smoothly started their tasks, and she was left standing a little helplessly. 

She was tired enough she wouldn't have minded just sitting down, but the last thing she wanted was to have them thinking she was weak. 

She doubted she would be much help with the ponies, and she wasn't nearly as strong as the Dwarves who were gathering firewood, bringing back branches she could never hope to pick up... 

Emmi asked the cook, a plump young Dwarf with rosy cheeks and messy brown hair, if there was anything she could do to help. He (she was almost certain the Dwarf was a he, though young) blushed a bit, then handed her a paring knife and a bag of potatoes to dice. She managed to get his name out of him, Eilir, and with gentle questioning was able to learn a little about him. His father was a stonemason and had been in one of the first caravans to Erebor, and had finally sent for him and his mother. 

“You're... very good with chopping.” He'd ventured shyly, as she efficiently diced potatoes into the stew pot. 

“I'm a Hobbit.” she said, “We _know_ food.” 

When the rich-smelling stew was done, Eilir asked her to take a bowl to his mother. 

“Um... I'm sorry, I'm not sure which...” Emmi accepted the bowl but looked around, seeing the camp teeming with Dwarves... 

“Kolir,” he'd explained, “White hair, _very_ pretty, beard goes like...” he made swirls beside his cheeks and Emmi nodded. She didn't know about 'very pretty', but there was only one Dwarf with white hair and ringlets in their beard... the Dwarf in question was actually one Emmi had guessed was a lady, since she had almost no beard on her chin. 

She accepted her own bowl too, and then noticed that it had only half as much stew. 

“Fill it up then... after all the potatoes I chopped... ” she chided, pushing it back at Eilir, who looked stunned. 

“But, you're so _little_...” 

“And I'd rather not get any smaller, thanks.” she said, “It's bad enough, only getting three meals a day!” 

He filled her bowl up and she nodded in thanks before going in search of Kolir, finding the cook's mother seated on a log, idly sharpening a sword. 

“Dinner?” Emmi offered, and Kolir accepted, putting the sword in a sheath at her side and and taking the bowl. 

“Have a seat then, lass.” she offered, scooting over on the log to make more space, “you look half-dead on your feet.” 

Emmi accepted, sitting herself down with a sigh, stretching her hairy feet out in front of her and tucking into her bowl of stew. Eilir had certainly done a good job with it. 

“It was kind of you to help my Eilir.” Kolir said, “None of us would have thought ill of you if you'd rested. You're not used to this the way we are.” 

“I wasn't raised to sit while others work.” she said, “...and I was _hungry_.” 

The solid Dwarf laughed, clapping Emmi soundly on the back, nearly sending her into her bowl of soup, “You're not bad.” she said, approvingly. 

 

Vadrun watched Miss Cotman try, very hard. She might be wearing a _dress_ to travel, of all things, but she wasn't as delicate as she'd seemed at first. The Hobbit made not a sound of complaint, even though she was clearly drooping by the end of the day, and she did not hold the group up, keeping the pace. 

Vadrun collected her winnings from Thridi, who'd wagered that the Hobbit would be on a pony before midday. 

Vadrun watched how the Hobbit gratefully dropped her pack, and then shook the travel dust out of her skirts and smoothed her dress, making herself look as neat and proper as she could. She expected Miss Cotman to sit down and rest, and was surprised when she looked around and nodded to herself, tying her wild masses of dark curls into a knot at the back of her neck and offering to help Eilir with dinner... the Hobbit even managed to engage the cook in some conversation, which was more than most of the Dwarves in the caravan had managed. 

At least Miss Cotman wasn't afraid of them all, oh, she was aware of her surroundings and was quick to dance out of the way of any of the roughhousing young Dwarves, but self-preservation wasn't the same as _fear._ She was not afraid to stand up for herself, even if she was small. 

That most definitely counted in her favor. 

Vadrun finished her circuit of the perimeter of camp and passed the watch off to Thridi to take her turn with dinner. 

Eilir the cook was smiling slightly to himself as he glanced toward Miss Cotman and his mother eating together... if he wasn't careful, the cook would talk himself into developing a puppy-crush on the Hobbit, even if she _was_ beardless... but Vadrun was sure Kolir could keep her son in line... she was terrible for mother-henning the poor boy. 

Vadrun took the watch back as soon as she was done eating. 

She caught the Hobbit quietly setting up her bedroll out of the way, at the edge of camp... that would not do at all. 

“Not here.” Vadrun tried to keep her tone friendly, “Experienced warriors to the outside, gentler folk to the middle.” she gestured to the perimeters of the camp as she spoke, gesturing Miss Cotman toward the safer center of the camp. 

“Oh!” the Hobbit said, “Oh, of course... I wasn't thinking...” She deftly rolled her bedding back up and looked over the camp, which Vadrun looking over it as though through her eyes looked to be full of strange, loud and unfamiliar people. 

“There.” Vadrun suggested, pointing, “next to the log, you'll stay warm by the fire.” it was also close to Cai and Bruni, and the Hobbit had forged a bond with the pair through little Juni, so she wouldn't feel so much among strangers. 

“Thank you...” Miss Cotman was clearly trying to recall a name... 

“Vadrun.” Vadrun helped. 

“Thank you Vadrun.” Miss Cotman smiled, and took her bedding over to the suggested spot. 

Vadrun passed the watch on to another guard as full night fell, spreading out her bedroll near the perimeter before elbowing her way in near the fire. 

Things were quieting down, families drifting together... someone started singing the song of the Mountain, and everyone joined in, singing quietly. 

Vadrun had never been there, but she could still remember the look on her mother's face whenever the Mountian was mentioned, the look on the faces of the older members of the caravan now, but now filled with _hope_ because they were finally returning to their homeland. 

Miss Cotman was crying when the song was over, sniffling quietly into a handkerchief. Kolir put her hand on the Hobbit's back. 

“Are you alright lass?” she asked, and Miss Cotman nodded. 

“I just... I haven't heard that song in so long.” she dabbed at her eyes and took a deep breath to compose herself, there was steel in the set of her jaw as she gazed into the fire, past it, through it. 

“It reminded me why I'm here.” she said.   


There was a story there, but tonight was not the night to hear it. Everyone drifted to their bedrolls to sleep with the tale untold. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My feels, let me show them to you.

Emmi drifted slowly up out of sleep, soothed by Balin's gentle snores. 

One of the children was giggling, probably little Will, or maybe Tom, possibly both... little scamps always trying to get up to mischief in the middle of the night when they came to visit Aunti Emmi. This might be because they knew it was a good way to get Uncle Balin to tuck them in again and sing them another song. Emmi's sister Primrose, their mother, claimed they never got up to anything at home. Regardless, the only way to get them settled again was to send Balin. 

Emmi reached out to shake the shoulder of her sleeping Dwarf, putting her hand on 

_wood?_

The shock of it woke Emmi the rest of the way up, and she was not in her cozy little Hobbit hole lying beside Balin. She was tucked in a bedroll in the middle of a camp of Dwarves, the snores she had assigned to him in her sleep coming from various other Dwarves. 

She took her hand off of the log she'd been sleeping beside, squeezing her eyes closed tight and squirming deeper into her bedroll. 

She _knew_ what she had to do, and now, finally, she was setting out to do it. 

The toddler giggles that had woken her sounded quietly again. It didn't really sound so much like her nephews, and she bit her lip at the very real possibility of never seeing her nieces and nephews again – or Prim either. 

Emmi shook the thoughts off. She had no time for them. She had made her decision, and Prim had agreed with her. She had written a letter from Bag End, letting Primrose know where she was going. 

Everything was settled and taken care of, and there was no turning back now. 

Juni giggled again, and this time Emmi was awake enough to hear Cai trying to shush him. 

“Go to sleep, my mythril, my gem...” Cai's voice was exhausted, “Will you let your poor Amad sleep?” 

Juni just giggled again. 

ah... he was in one of those playful happy moods, where he just wanted to play while his poor parents just needed sleep. Emmi had helped Prim with her little ones enough to know the mood. 

Emmi sat up, seeing the blue twilight of false dawn, feeling the light chill in the air. Cai was exhaustedly rocking Juni, who was wreathed in smiles, tugging at her beard braids. 

Cai saw her, her brow furrowing with worry, “Oh, I'm so sorry...” she breathed, but Emmi shook her head, smiling and holding her arms out for Juni. 

“I can mind him, so you can sleep.” she offered in a whisper, and Juni reached back for her. Cai only considered for a moment before passing him over with a whispered 'thank you'. 

Cai snuggled into Bruni's back, burrowing under the blankets. 

“Ama?” Juni asked, watching her. 

“Shh...” Emmi hushed, “Ama needs to sleep, but you can play with Aunti Emmi. Can you say Emmi?” 

Juni was happy to play with Emmi, and she kept him as quiet as she could, watching morning steal over the camp. Eilir was up just before the sun, checking on the bean porridge he'd left banked in the coals overnight. 

Vadrun, who carried a massive double-bit axe and with a few other big Dwarves seemed to be in charge of guarding the camp, was up soon after, and Emmi felt like it was safe to get up. She perched Juni on her hip, wrapping them together in her warm wool cloak, and rolled her bedroll up before taking a little stroll through the camp, making sure to be as quiet as only a Hobbit could be so as not to wake the sleeping Dwarves. She did not go far, just far enough away that Juni could play a little without waking anyone, still well within sight of Vadrun – and Cai, should she wake up. 

She tried to teach Juni the names of a few plants, picking sprigs of them for him to hold, but he was more interested in tasting them and putting them in her hair, he seemed fascinated by the way her curls bounced when he pulled on them. 

Emmi and Juni were sitting in the warmth of the first sun of the day, putting flowers in one another's hair, when Bruni woke up. 

“Ada!” Juni said, pointing, and Emmi held his hands, walking him to his father, who scooped him up and asked what he thought he was doing with plants in his hair. 

“Mi.” Juni declared, pointing at Emmi, and Emmi smiled in surprise. He hadn't tried to say her name before. 

“He was up early this morning.” Emmi explained, “I was minding him so Cai could sleep.” 

“She should have woken me up...” Bruni cast a fond look at his sleeping wife, “but thank you, Miss Cotman.” 

“Emerald, please.” She smiled, and he nodded, tucking Juni into the sling Cai had been wearing the day before and setting about packing their things up. 

Little Juni, with wildflowers falling out of his light hair, waved goodbye to her, and she waved back. 

Oh, that little sweetheart was exactly what she'd always wanted. 

Eilir brought her a bowl of bean porridge which she was pleased to discover was full to the brim, she thanked him and he blushed... he would _have_ to get over that shyness with her. She settled on the log she'd slept beside to have her breakfast. 

Emmi knew what she had to do, hard though it was going to be; but it was not so bad. 

She was making friends already. 

 

Balin leaned against the balcony, breathing the cool air that would soon warm with the dawn, feeling a slight amount of shame. What sort of a Dwarf craves the touch of outdoor air? 

One who lived far too many years on the surface. 

He pretended not to notice other Dwarves who were on the balconies, just as they pretended not to notice him. He did not think it was his imagination that the balconies were a much more popular destination than they had been in the old days. 

He looked West, and as they often did, his thoughts drifted to Hobbits, to Hobbit lasses, to one Hobbit lass in particular. 

His last lover, his Emmi, had been possibly the finest lass he'd ever met. None of the others had stayed with him so long, five years and showing no sign of leaving, before Thorin called him for the quest. 

She had asked him how long before he returned, and her tears when he explained that, win or loose, he would not be returning had broken his heart. 

Once again Balin thought of writing her a letter, but he knew the time for that was long past. They were sweet summer creatures, Hobbit lasses, and two years after he left her she would have moved on. They lived their lives so briefly – in two years she had likely married, probably had an adorable tiny hobbit baby to love and cuddle. 

A baby that was not his.   


There had never been any promises between them, he could not expect her to have waited for him, not when he had told her not to. 

He should have written her as soon as the Mountain was reclaimed, but with all the heartbreak of loosing Thorin and the Princes, and all the work that needed to be done to prepare Erebor to accept the flood of Dwarves returning, it had been put off again and again until now it was far too late. 

Balin was lonely, he could accept that of himself as he stood breathing the night air. It was not that he was lacking in offers, having a fourteenth of the gold of Erebor and the ear of King Dain had done for him what his fine beard alone could not... but the victory was hollow. He looked at the darrowdams who expressed their interest in him, and he did not want them. In truth, he suspected that they did not want _him_ either, but his position and wealth, and he ached for his sweet Emmi who accepted him when he was nothing but a working scribe. 

He turned back into the Mountain as the sun crested the horizon. 

He had waited too long. 

It was far too late now. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today, Emmi still has problems with Dwarven gender.  
> Also, friend-shippy fluff.

The Dwarves were slowly learning not to try to treat Emmi like a child. Once they had become comfortable in her presence, the younger constantly-roughhousing Dwarves thought it would be great fun to pull pranks on her. 

It was their bad luck that the first to try 'crept' loudly up behind her while she was cooking dinner. He (she was mostly sure he was a he) earned himself a sharp rap across the knuckles with a wooden spoon, the caterpillar he had been trying to put in her hair dropping to the ground. 

“Didn't your mother ever warn you not to anger the cook?” she demanded, shaking the wooden spoon under his nose, “You'll get no supper if you keep it up. Now you pick that poor little creature back up and put it where you found it! How would _you_ like it if a giant picked you up and carried you soaring off over the trees and dropped you?” 

With a mumbled “yes miss” and “sorry miss” the very red-faced young Dwarf gently picked the caterpillar back up and scurried away. 

“ _Really_.” Emmi huffed, turning back to the dinner's stew. There were wild cheers and little purses of money flying across the camp, and it took Emmi a moment to realize that she was the cause of it. Eilir, across the fire from her, was laughing. 

“You sounded _just_ like my mother...” he giggled. He was finally getting less shy around her, rarely blushing when he talked with her anymore, which made it easier to help him cook every day. 

“Well done, lass.” Kolir smacked her on the back, walking past, the white-haired Dwarf giving her a broad wink, “That's put the scoundrels in their place.” 

Emmi smiled and tasted the stew, hmming as she tried to think how to make it better, handing Eilir the spoon to taste too. 

It was a _good_ stew. It had been Bruni's turn to carry Juni, as he did every other day, so Cai had taken her bow and ranged ahead with a few guards for protection. She'd come back with three rabbits and a pair of grouse, which Emmi had helped dress and chop up for the stew. 

It was always nice to have the extra meat when Cai had a good day hunting, and Emmi was quickly getting a taste for wild-game-stew. Today she and Eilir had thickened it with barley and seasoned it with sage and onions, and it was _good_ , but still.... 

“Mushrooms.” she finally sighed, “What it really wants are rich, earthy mushrooms and about a gallon of cream.” 

“Maybe dandelion greens, like you did last week?” Eilir suggested, handing the spoon back, and Emmi tasted it again. 

Yes, a few bitter greens would round the flavor out nicely. Emmi resisted the urge to sigh. She was just so terribly _tired_ , she had expected to acclimatize to the trip by now, but instead every day she was more tired than the last. 

Bilbo had warned her of it, but she'd expected to get used to it by now. 

It was a _good_ stew, but it would be unforgivable to not make it better just because she was tired. 

She grabbed a bowl and a small knife and set out for the edges of camp where things weren't trampled so hard, finding a patch of dandelions and gathering the tender young leaves, making her way along the perimeter of camp, making sure to keep in sight at all times. Vadrun got angry if _anyone_ wandered out of eyesight alone, and Emmi didn't want to repeat the mistakes she saw others making, especially now that they were getting into dangerous lands. 

She sighed, she could _see_ better patches of greens to gather from, but she would be too far from camp. 

Emmi had made her way about halfway around the camp, her bowl still only about a third full, when Vadrun approached her, the big dark-haired guard's face stern as usual. 

Emmi rubbed her forehead tiredly, “Sorry, did I wander too far?” she asked. 

“No.” Vadrun said, leaning down to pluck a dandelion leaf, “These ones?” the guard eyed the leaf a bit distrustfully. 

“um... yes.” Emmi said, holding the bowl out, and Vadrun dropped the leaf in. 

“It'll go faster with two.” Vadrun commented, picking a few more leaves, “And we can go further from camp.” 

Emmi was so surprised at the offer of help that she didn't respond until Vadrun dropped a small handful of leaves into the bowl. 

“Thank you.” she finally said, smiling, “I saw some good patches over there...” 

Vadrun nodded, and they made their way over, quickly filling the bowl with tender young leaves together. 

“You can ask for a guards company whenever you need.” Vadrun said as they walked back to camp, “It's why we're here.” 

“I don't want to be a bother...” Emmi protested. 

“No bother.” Vadrun said, adding almost a smile, “You make the food better.” 

“Hobbits and food.” Emmi smiled back, glad that her contribution was noticeable, “It's what we're famous for.” 

 

Miss Cotman was tough, but there was a limit to how much even that steel she sometimes showed could take her, and Vadrun could see that limit approaching. The Hobbit was cheerful in the mornings, after a good night's sleep, but in the evenings she was grim-faced and tired... though she still smiled back whenever she was spoken to. Day after day, Vadrun watched the grimness set in earlier and earlier as Miss Cotman hiked along. 

What she needed was a day or so of rest to recuperate, then she would likely be better acclimatized to traveling, but a day of rest was not a luxury they had. 

No one would have said anything if the Hobbit asked for a turn on one of the ponies, and it would not be a hardship to make room for her on one, now that they had eaten some of the bulkier food they'd packed, but it was clear that Miss Cotman wasn't going to ask. 

Vadrun could either watch the Hobbit hit her limit and collapse, which would be disruptive to the functioning of the caravan, or she could do something about it. 

Obviously, she preferred the second option, but it would have to be done carefully. Miss Cotman did not take kindly to being ordered about or told what to do, and she would likely take the observation that she was reaching the end of her strength as either a challenge or an insult. 

Vadrun could understand that. She dealt with the egos of warriors _constantly_ , and Miss Cotman, tiny and harmless though she was, had a fighter's spirit. 

Luckily, it was only a few days before it was Vadrun's turn to take the night watch, which meant she was riding a pony to get a little rest during the day. 

She made sure her pony was packed so there was room for someone small to sit behind her comfortably. 

Now, she just had to get the Hobbit to _sit_ there...

 

Emmi had drifted into a fantasy of a second breakfast fit for kings – with mounds of fluffy scrambled eggs and bacon and sausages, and a big fluffy spinach-cheese souffle the way only Prim could make, and porridge with lots of honey and cream and buttery toast on the side, and finishing off with scones and cakes and tea with extra sugar... 

She hadn't realized she'd slowed and fallen to the back of the group until Vadrun pulled in beside her on a pony. 

“Sorry, just thinking... I'll catch back up!” she said, before the guard could chastise her for holding them up. She looked for her friends, seeing Cai far ahead, playing peek-a-boo with Juni as she walked, seeing Kolir and Eilir walking together, Eilir trying ineffectively to bat his mother's hands away while Kolir tried to do something with his hair. 

They looked so _far_ away, and Emmi could feel her shoulders slumping. 

She was _so tired_ , the though of jogging back up to catch up to them... 

“Come on up.” Vadrun said, reaching a hand out, “There's room behind me.” 

Emmi wanted to protest that she was _perfectly capable_ of walking, thanks, and she wanted to follow that up by bouncing her way cheerfully through the group up to where Cai was, and she _didn't_ want anyone to think she was weak just because she was a Hobbit instead of a Dwarf, but she couldn't really accuse Vadrun of thinking she was weak for riding when Vadrun was also riding, and she was just _so tired_ , and she _wanted_ to not have to walk and carry her pack... 

“We lasses have to stick together.” Vadrun wheedled with a small smile. 

Emmi's brain ground to a complete stop. 

Vadrun was a lady? 

_Vadrun_? 

Vadrun with the thick bushy black beard. Vadrun with the huge double-bit battleaxe. Vadrun, the biggest Dwarf in the caravan. Vadrun the leader of the guards protecting the caravan. 

Vadrun was a lady. 

Emmi mentally threw her hands in the air and gave up trying to understand how to tell lady Dwarves apart from gentlemen Dwarves. 

“Just for a bit.” Vadrun was saying, “Just to let you catch your breath.” 

Emmi was tired. 

“Thank you, Vadrun.” she said, “I think I will.” 

Vadrun stopped her pony and Emmi reached up to take her hand. 

“Put your foot on my foot...” Vadrun instructed, wiggling her foot in her stirrup, “and swing yourself up behind me.” 

Emmi hiked her skirt up and followed the guard's instructions, Vadrun hauling her up onto the pony easily. She set herself side-saddle, smoothing her skirts primly, and took her pack off, adding it to the baggage already on the pony. 

She breathed a sigh of relief to be off her feet finally, and to have the weight of her pack off her shoulders. 

“Breeches underneath,” Vadrun said approvingly, “sensible.” 

“Not as sensible as _just_ wearing breeches, I'm sure.” Emmi said, and Vadrun chuckled lightly at that. Emmi wasn't sure she'd ever heard the guard laugh before. 

Emmi relaxed, swaying with the movement of the pony. Now that she wasn't focused on walking, her stomach chose to inform her that it was past time for second breakfast... so far she had been able to ignore it and make do with the three meals the Dwarves provided, but she _did_ have the rations Bilbo had made for her, and they'd get no lighter if she didn't eat them _some_ time. 

She dug into her pack and pulled out the first waxed-paper wrapped bundle, untying the string to take out a single cake... she really shouldn't use them all up at the beginning of the trip, not when she would likely want them more later. 

She re-wrapped the extras and put them back, then broke the cake in half. 

“Honey cake?” she offered, and Vadrun accepted with surprise. 

“mmm... good.” Vadrun opined after taking a bite, and Emmi had to agree. They cake was rich and sweet, dense but with a tender bite. It hit the spot perfectly. The Dwarves hadn't brought any sugar or honey in the food stores, so it was the first sweet she'd had since joining them. 

“Thank you, Miss Cotman.” Vadrun said. 

“Emerald, please.” Emmi said, still nibbling on her cake to make it last while Vadrun was done with her half. 

“Thank you, Emerald.” Vadrun corrected herself. 

“You are most welcome.” Emmi said, smiling. 

 

Vadrun didn't suggest that Emerald get off the pony as the morning turned into the afternoon, and the afternoon wore on, and Emerald didn't insist on getting down. They rode mostly in companionable silence, both getting as much rest as they could. 

As she relaxed, Emerald leaned against Vadrun, a small warm presence against her back. Eventually the Hobbit's breathing changed, and Vadrun wondered if she was sleeping. 

Quite a skill, sleeping on ponyback, she'd never quite managed it herself. 

Kolir was looking curiously up at Emerald behind Vadrun, and Vadrun flicked her fingers in quick inglishmek to avoid waking Emerald by speaking. 

“Sleeping?” she asked. 

Kolir nodded, “I hope she doesn't fall.” she replied. 

Vadrun looked behind herself as well as she could without disturbing the lass, but Emerald seemed wedged tightly between the bundles on the pony, and the pony was a steady one, extremely unlikely to spook for anything short of an Orc attack. 

“Seems safe. I'll keep an eye on her.” Vadrun answered. 

Kolir smiled, “Thank you.” she signed back, looking at Emerald, “Little rock-head.” she signed, but her fingers added the twist of fondness. 

“Stubborn as one of us.” Vadrun agreed, and Kolir laughed lightly. 

Emerald woke up on her own a little while before they were to stop for camp, sitting back from where she'd been leaning against Vadrun with a little exclamation of 'oh!'. 

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...” 

“You were comfortable.” Vadrun assured her, having someone leaning against her back had made it so Vadrun could lean back a little herself and relax some more. Her night watch after this would be easier for it. 

When Thridi called the halt for the evening, Emerald bounced down off the pony and was full of life as she helped Eilir make dinner, laughing as she stopped to rub noses with little Juni in his father's arms on one of her trips through camp. She smiled so much she had poor Eilir blushing and fumbling with words again. Somehow even her big curly hair seemed livelier, dark chestnut curls bouncing around her as she moved. 

When the Hobbit actually started singing to herself as she stirred the soup, Vadrun knew that her plan had been a complete success. 

With any luck the day of rest would be enough to hold Emerald over at least until the next time Vadrun had a night shift. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My mother finally read the chapters I've been sending her, and her reaction to the story thus far is, and this is a direct quote from her email:  
>  _More more send me more_
> 
> That is all. That's the whole email.  
> I told her I'd send her more as soon as it's written.
> 
> Now with art!  
> http://mianewarcher.tumblr.com/post/47192886765/work-sketch-emmi-and-vadrun-fic-by-thorinsmut


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of violence in this chapter, so be warned!

Emmi had _finally_ acclimatized to travel. She was still _tired_ at the end of the day, but no longer felt that bone-deep exhaustion... it helped that Vadrun offered her a ride on the back of her pony every few weeks. Emmi's feet, always tough, had taken on a whole other level of calluses on the bottom. She had also noticed that her dresses were a little bit looser in places she would rather they weren't. She always made sure to get seconds at meals, but she was still loosing weight.

It wasn't _too_ bad yet, and she resolved not to tuck into her personal supplies too hard until they were in the Misty Mountains, where things were likely to be even harder.

Emmi made sure to elbow her way into the group whenever Thridi was going over the map, so she could keep track of their progress herself. They made their way across the little slip of paper painfully slowly, but they were now North of the Hoarwell river, skirting just South of the Ettenmoors.

In a few days, they would be in the Misty Mountains themselves, traveling through the Northern passes. A few of the guards weren't happy their route had them traveling so close to Gundabad, but most of the others were confident in the reports they had read and heard that there was very little Orc or Goblin activity _anywhere_ after the massive defeat they had recently been dealt.

There was something in the way they said _Gundabad_ that had Emmi a little worried, and she asked Vadrun about it one day when she was riding behind the big guard, leaning comfortably against her back.

“Gundabad was once a mighty Dwarf kingdom, but it was taken by the Orcs. It is an evil place now, an evil mountain.” Vadrun had answered, “They breed their Orcs and their Wargs big and mean there... but we don't have to worry. I doubt we'll meet anything worse than small raiding parties, if anything. We're all just working folk, not rich enough a caravan to be worth their time, with them so weak.”

Even the thought of meeting a small raiding party of Orcs sounded plenty bad to Emmi.

Although they were still a few days out of the mountains, already the terrain had changed, large outcrops of rock dotting the landscape, and fewer trees. Emmi was finding that she knew fewer and fewer of the local plants. That was something she hadn't anticipated, but it made sense.

She hiked along beside Bruni, who was carrying Juni for the day. Juni was fussy. For the first time in all their travels, the little darrow wasn't happy. He cried no matter what Bruni tried, drooling and chewing on his fist.

“Here.” Emmi offered, holding out her arms, and Juni half-flung himself toward her in his sling.

“Miiiiii!” he wailed, and a flustered Bruni handed him over gratefully. The baby didn't calm, fussing and pulling on his ear.

Emmi bounced him as she walked, putting a finger in his mouth and feeling along the gumline... as she'd suspected, he flinched away when she reached a tender swollen spot.

She smiled up at Bruni, who was hovering with worry, “He's teething.” she said, “He'll be better in a few days... until the next pair start coming in.”

Bruni's expression wavered between pride at his baby _growing up_ , and worry.

“Can I see?” he asked, “Is there anything we can do for him?”

“Just giving him something to chew on will help.” Emmi said, then kissed Juni on the forehead, “Can you show your Adad your teeth?” she asked, turning his head toward his father, pulling his lip down gently to show the reddened gums briefly before he pulled away and hid his face against her shoulder.

“That's a good boy.” She soothed, rubbing his back, “Thank you for doing that for Aunti Emmi.”

Soon Juni started crying again, throwing himself back and forth in her arms, and his father took him back to put him in his sling. Emmi rummaged in her pack and got out her honey cakes, breaking one into three pieces, giving one piece each to Juni and Bruni.

“Honey cakes.” she explained, “tough for him to chew on, and it tastes good so maybe he'll calm for a little while...”

Juni resisted tasting the cake, turning his face away, but once he was coaxed into trying it he calmed, happily gumming it.

“Thank you.” Bruni said in relief.

“Oh, not a problem.” Emmi smiled, “I helped my sister with hers often enough...”

She did not need to add how much she wanted her own, or how much being around Juni helped her cope with missing her little nieces and nephews.

She knew what she needed to do.

It was hard, but she would do it.

 

They had only a few moment's warning before they were attacked by Orcs on their second day in the Misty Mountains – it was heavily overcast, and they hadn't reached the shelter they'd been aiming for as early in the day as they had planned to, so Vadrun and the rest of the guards had been on high alert.

A few moments was all the Dwarves needed, in a flurry of motion around a startled Emmi, the ponies were grabbed so they couldn't bolt, Cai passed Juni to Bruni, who put the shield he usually wore on his back on his arm and tucked the baby under it against his chest, a mace in his other hand, while Cai grabbed her bow, knocking an arrow. Kolir had her sword in her hand, and even shy Eilir had knives in his hands, looking grim.

Emmi tried to stay near the center of the group, but they were running, following Thridi who was gesturing wildly and occasionally shouting words in a language she didn't know but apparently everyone else did, because no one else was surprised when they would suddenly change course, or stop, or suddenly start again.

This had just happened, everyone bolting forward at no cue Emmi could understand, and she was right at the back of the group, trying to run fast enough to get back into the center, when her skirt caught on something, wrapping tight around her legs, and she was falling down.

She screamed as she fell, and the Orcs were closer than she'd realized because there was one bearing down on her.

Bilbo's words seemed to trickle like molasses through her brain as the ugly gray-skinned creature launched itself at her and she scrabbled for the dagger on the belt at her hip.

“ _the pointy bit goes toward the enemy, and use the element of surprise.”_

Emmi had enough time to think that that was _not nearly_ enough guidance, despite her panic, as she rolled away from the Orc's grabbing hand and stabbed wildly at it.

The blade sunk deep between it's ribs, and there was some part of Emmi's brain that mentioned that it felt a lot like helping butcher a pig, while the rest of her brain and the rest of her screamed again and blood bubbled out of the Orc's mouth as it fell toward her.

Then Vadrun was there, kicking the Orc off of Emmi as she ran back toward the Orc pack, screaming words Emmi couldn't understand, followed by most of the rest of the guards and quite a few of the adult Dwarves.

Kolir grabbed Emmi by the arm, picking her up and dragging her stumbling back into the center of the group, shouting something in the direction of Vadrun. The Dwarves were circled around the ponies, all weapons drawn, and Cai had climbed onto a nearby rock for height, was shooting arrows with an expression of serene contemplation on her face.

Emmi could feel the blood pounding in her ears.

She knew what she had to do.

She knew what she had to do, she was here, among these Dwarves because she knew what she had to do and she was here to do it.

She was attacked by an Orc because she knew what she had to do.

She would never have ever had to _see_ an Orc but she knew what she had to do and she was here, she was here and she knew what she had to do.

She looked down at herself, vaguely surprised that the dagger was still in her bloodied hand, looking at her skirts.

Emmi should have paid attention better to the clothes Bibo had shown her. Traveling was no place for skirts.

With a quick touch of the knife she started a small cut, grabbed both sides of it and pulled, ripping the skirt off at mid-thigh, dropping the useless round of cloth.

Eilir grabbed her arm as Vadrun and the Dwarves who'd followed her ran back into the group, and the caravan was running again, Kolir taking a position along the outside of the group while Eilir and Emmi stayed in the middle with Bruni and others who were not fighters.

Emmi focused on running, on keeping up, on not holding Eilir back, because the young cook didn't let her go for a moment.

She knew what she had to do, she just had to trust the Dwarves to keep her alive so she could do it.

She knew what she had to do, that's why she was here.

She knew what she had to do.

 

Vadrun worked with Thridi to get the entire caravan to safety, the Orc pack on them was small but determined.

They finally managed to get everyone into a sheltered spot, and then the fighters could really focus on fighting, now that they didn't have to worry about the caravan being surrounded. With that the tide turned, and the Orcs decided the Dwarves weren't worth the trouble and scattered out into the growing dusk.

They would have to post a double guard through the mountains, and Vadrun gave the order.

Only then could she focus on anything else, feeling the terrible pinch of guilt as she looked toward Emerald, the little Hobbit shaking, blood-spattered, skirt torn off all ragged and uneven, dagger still clutched in her white knuckled hand and the whites visible all around her eyes.

It was Vadrun's fault that Emerald had been in such danger – she should have realized that of _course_ Emerald wouldn't understand Kuzdul orders or inglishmek signs, was running blind while everyone else knew what was happening, but Vadrun wasn't used to traveling in groups of anything but Dwarves.

Eilir was standing awkwardly beside Emerald, patting her on the shoulder and trying to calm her down and getting nowhere. The Hobbit was either going into shock, or already there.

Vadrun walked over.

“Emerald,” she said, as gently as she could, “can you give me the dagger?”

“Yes.” Emerald said. She did not make a move to hand it over.

Vadrun closed her hand around Emerald's hand, around the dagger. Some people reacted badly to going into shock, could lash out unexpectedly. Emerald probably wouldn't, but it was far better to be safe than sorry.

“You're safe now.” she soothed.

“Yes, I know.” Emerald said, flat voiced, disconnected, her eyes looking off to the side as she trembled.

Vadrun brought her other hand up to the side of Emerald's face, “Look at me.” she instructed, and Emerald trembled, but her brown eyes finally looked up into Vadrun's.

“You're safe.” Vadrun repeated, “You're here, surrounded by Dwarves, please let go of the dagger.”

Emerald took a huge shuddering breath, her grip on the dagger loosening, and Vadrun eased it out of her grip, shoving it into Eilir's hand as the Hobbit crumbled, throwing herself against Vadrun's chest as she sobbed.

“I was _so scared_.” she wailed, “I know... I _know_ what I have to do, but I didn't know how hard it was going to be...”

“You're alright, you're alright.” Vadrun soothed awkwardly. As uncomfortable as this was, it meant that the Hobbit was letting it go.

Luckily Kolir was there, taking the pack off of Emerald's back, taking the Hobbit's cloak out of it and wrapping it around her, pulling Emerald over so she was crying on Kolir instead... which Vadrun was intensely grateful for. Kolir was a mother, she was much better at comforting, rocking back and forth gently and murmuring soft words.

“Thank you!” Vadrun signed in relief, and Kolir nodded understanding.

“You were doing well.” the white-haired Dwarf signed back, and Vadrun made a self-depreciating gesture. She knew her strength, and it was not _this_.

“ _That_ one's no warrior.” Thridi growled in Kuzdul, the gray-haired miner shaking his head as he walked past on some task.

“Says the Dwarf who pissed himself the first time he met an Orc.” Kolir signed back sharply, “Don't think I've forgotten!”

Thridi winced, but his expression softened as he looked at Emerald, “She did well.” he signed, “For a first-timer.”

With Emerald taken care of for the moment, Vadrun set about organizing guards, making sure those who went to gather firewood had enough protection, making _absolutely_ sure the camp couldn't be snuck up on by Orcs during the night.

They made a small camp, keeping everything close, and Vadrun was relieved to see that Cai and Bruni were sitting near the fire with Emerald and Kolir while Eilir cooked, Emerald was sitting on her own, though surrounded close by her friends, the cloak still around her shoulders as she nibbled on a honey-cake... that should help settle her nerves.

 _Vadrun's_ nerves, however...

It was just as well she had assigned herself night watch tonight. She wouldn't be sleeping any time soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference, this is the map I'm referring to while I write.  
> http://blog.lefigaro.fr/hightech/assets_c/2011/06/middle-earth-map-33096.html
> 
> Also, Mia-Newarcher made art!  
> http://mianewarcher.tumblr.com/post/46935989436/attempt-at-hobbits-inspired-by-thorinsmut-oc  
> http://mianewarcher.tumblr.com/post/46945442491/lady-dwarf-work-sketch-vadrun-oc-of-thorinsmut


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you start a crafty-type project in front of Dwarves, they'll probably take over, especially if you ask their advice.

Emmi sat by the fire, wedged close between Kolir and Cai while Eilir started making dinner. Kolir had restrained her when she tried to get up to help. 

“Not today.” the solid Dwarf had said gently, petting her hair while easily holding her down with an arm around her shoulders, “You've earned a little break.” 

It was probably a sign of how shaken up Emmi still was that she didn't argue, even though she knew she ought to. 

It just didn't seem worth the fight. 

She sighed and lay her head against Kolir's broad shoulder, and Kolir hummed comfortingly. Juni crawled over Cai, lying half across his mother's knees and half on Emmi's grinning up at her with his one little tooth. She smiled back and he climbed all the way into her lap. 

She lifted him to give him a hug, all cuddly and little and warm, breathing the comforting baby-scent as the shakes came back and she tried to hold herself together. 

Those few moments with the Orc leaping on her had been so _terrifying._ She was safe now, she knew that, just like Vadrun had said... and Vadrun was on guard, with a few other guards, and Emmi was here between Kolir and Cai and Bruni, all of whom were good fighters. 

Kolir kept humming, rocking back and forth as Emmi leaned on her. That, with Juni in her arms, playing with her curls, was grounding, and Emmi managed to compose herself again. 

She handed Juni back to Cai. 

“I'm sorry... I don't seem to be dealing with this very well...” she said, quietly. No one else in the caravan seemed to have been affected at all. 

“You're doing _wonderfully_.” Kolir said, “You should have seen me after my first kill.” There was a bit of a laugh in her voice, “I slipped and dropped my sword and fell down and cut my hand on it, and I just sat there and cried like a baby... and I'd been _training_ for it!” 

“I threw up after mine.” Cai said, shaking her head at herself as she bounced Juni, “A warg... took me three arrows, and he was charging at me but I got him. My father was congratulating me, and I just stumbled away and lost _everything_ in my stomach.” 

Bruni nodded, “ _no one_ does well their first time, Emerald.” He agreed, “I got the shakes so bad after mine I couldn't even talk or walk or _anything_ , I just stood there shaking and my companions had to take care of me.” 

“You're doing _much_ better than Eilir did.” Kolir added, “He went into hysterics after his.” 

“ _Mother!_ ” Eilir protested, blushing bright red. 

“You think that's bad?” another Dwarf Emmi didn't know very well laughed, adding his story of a first-time mishap, and then suddenly the entire caravan was in on it, trying to one-up each other with a worse story. Vadrun confessed to having swung so hard in panic she went clear through the Orc she was killing and got her axe stuck deep in a tree and spent the rest of the skirmish trying to pry it out while everyone else fought around her. 

Emmi laughed along with the embarrassing stories that she knew must have been _terrifying_ at the time, and she didn't feel so different anymore. 

“You did good.” Kolir told her quietly in a lull between stories, “You _really_ did do well for a first kill.” 

“I wouldn't mind _at all_ if it was a _last_ kill.” Emmi confessed, and Kolir grinned, bumping shoulders with her. 

“I don't think anyone would mind that.” Kolir agreed, “But now you know you _can_ if you have to... where did your knife go?” 

“Here.” Eilir said, picking it up from nearby and handing it to his mother. Kolir looked the blade over, making a small face. 

“Human make, so it'll need sharpening after every time it's used... could be worse though. It's sized for you, at least.” she said, “I'll teach you how to care for it... you really should be gifted a new weapon in a party to commemorate your first kill, but we're not prepared for that...” 

Emmi cuddled with Juni, who had crawled back into her lap, tickling his belly, and paid attention to what Kolir was teaching her. 

She was gifted a small vial of blade oil, and a rag to go with it to keep her dagger in good shape... she would have to borrow a sharpening stone if she ever needed to sharpen it. Emmi passed Juni back to Bruni, and Kolir ran her through a couple very basic drills of how to draw and hold her dagger, adjusting her belt for her so her dagger was in a better spot to draw it from. 

Soon dinner was done, and Eilir gave her the first serving of stew. 

“First serving for your f-first kill.” He blushed. She smiled and put her hand on his. 

“Thank you for looking out for me while we were running.” she said, and he blushed harder. 

“Shoo, silly boy.” Kolir said, and Eilir ducked and left, serving up more bowls of stew for the rest of the caravan. 

When she was done eating, Emmi took her pipe and the little package of Old Toby Bilbo had given her out of her pack, wrapping her cloak tighter around her and settling back for a smoke. 

She hadn't really smoked on the trip yet, since she had such a limited stock... but after a day like today...

Emmi looked down at herself as she relaxed, at her torn and bloodied dress. Cai had helped her clean it, but there was only so much that could be done with it while she wore it. She was very glad she had a spare dress in her pack, though the skirt would have to be shortened and hemmed before she could wear it. She really _should_ have done that before she set out on this journey, clearly Bilbo's mother had known what she was doing with her adventuring clothes. 

Emmi rummaged in her pack and pulled out her spare dress and the little sewing kit Bilbo had sent her with. She leaned back and held the dress against herself, trying to decide what length to cut it off. 

“Here or here?” she asked, turning to Kolir and Cai, pointing out two different lengths with the little pair of scissors from her kit. 

“The shorter, I think.” Kolir said. 

“I was thinking the longer.” Cai said, “It'll look better but still be out of your way... what do you think Bruni?” she asked, and Bruni stroked his beard, looking at the dress. Emmi helpfully mimed the two lengths on it again. 

“Oh!” Eilir said from across the fire, “You could cut it like...” he made wave-motions with his hands. “Like flowerpetals.” he said. 

Kolir hmmed, looking at the dress, drawing scallop shapes along the skirt with her index finger “It would be _adorable_ on you.” 

“Could make it double-layer.” Bruni suggested. 

“Yes!” Cai said, “Cut it the shorter length, and then put the extra fabric as a longer layer on the inside.” 

“That would look nice.” Kolir agreed. 

“I was just going to do it simple...” Emmi protested, but Kolir waved it off. 

“Eilir and I will do it.” she said, taking the dress and scissors. “Eilir, come help...” Eilir finished shoveling coals around the cauldron of porridge he was leaving to simmer in the fire overnight and came over, grinning. 

“Does anyone have a piece of chalk!” Kolir shouted, and Emmi, seeing how excited the two Dwarves were, gave up. Sewing never was her favorite anyway. 

She sat back and puffed slowly on her pipe, while Kolir and Eilir sketched lines on her dress with the piece of chalk and cut pieces, then sat across from each other, each with a needle and thread, Kolir neatly hemming the flower-petal edges while Eilir stitched the longer piece on the inside, turning the dress between them as they went. 

There was an extra piece, taken from the inside layer to keep it from becoming too bulky, and Cai took it, running it through her fingers thoughtfully. 

She seemed to come to a decision and, after trimming it a bit, sewed it into a long-based triangle. 

“May I comb your hair?” she asked, and Emmi nodded. Cai took out a small comb that looked to be carved from bone and sat behind Emmi, running it gently through her hair. Emmi relaxed into it, smiling. It felt so good, no one had brushed her hair for her since... not since Balin left... 

She blinked the sudden tears out of her eyes. 

She was taking care of it. She knew what she had to do. 

When she was done brushing, Cai took the triangle of cloth and tied it around Emmi's head like a kerchief, crossing the long ends underneath her hair and tying them on the top again so she had a ponytail and her hair was all contained. 

“Should keep it out of your way better than the knot you usually tie it in.” Cai smiled, and Emmi thanked her. 

Kolir and Eilir were done surprisingly fast, trimming the ends of their threads and holding the dress up proudly. 

“That's gorgeous!” Emmi complemented them, and they smiled. 

“Eilir has been helping me with my sewing since he was a little darrow.” Kolir said, proudly. “he could be a tailor if he didn't want to be a cook.” 

Emmi took the dress behind the privacy curtain set up in one corner of camp and came back with it on , twirling around for her friends' benefit. 

“I look like a daffodil.” she said, fluffing the petals of her dress with a smile. 

“Can you move all right?” Kolir asked, and Emmi made sure that she could before she settled back between her friends to hem her original dress herself, Eilir and Kolir on one side, Cai and Bruni with Juni on the other. 

Bilbo had told her that once they'd accepted her she wouldn't find better friends in the world. 

He'd been right. 

 

Vadrun sat with her back to the fire, keeping watch over the camp, looking out into the dark. Dwarves were starting to drift toward their bedrolls, Cai and Bruni had already turned in with Juni tucked between them, but Emerald in her newly reinvented dress didn't seem to want to go to bed yet, wrapping herself tighter in her cloak and poking at the coals with a long stick. 

“I'm wondering...” Vadrun said, “When you said 'I know what I have to do'... what did you mean?” Emerald had never let on _why_ she was traveling all the way to Erebor. 

“Oh.” Emerald said, “I said that out loud?” 

“A few times while we were running, too.” Eilir added from sitting between Kolir's legs while his mother rebraided his hair. 

The Hobbit considered for a moment, “There's... a question I have to ask.” she said, carefully, “That I should have asked a long time ago.” 

“Who do you have to ask it of?” Vadrun asked, and Emerald paused again, poking at the fire with a stick before she seemed to come to a decision. 

“He's a scribe and lawyer, he worked writing contracts and letters and such.” she said, with a little smile, “Balin...” her voice made the name beautiful, “He has the finest white beard, and he is probably the kindest person I ever met... his King called for him and he left, two years ago.” Emerald's chin set, that determined look entering her eyes again, “Bilbo had a letter from him from Erebor, so that's where I'm going. I know what I have to do.” 

Emerald nodded firmly to herself, poking at the fire with her stick, and missed the look that passed between Vadrun and Kolir. 

“Lord Balin.” Kolir signed out of Emerald's sight. 

“Hero of Erebor and Ear of the King.” Vadrun agreed. 

“She doesn't _know_...” Kolir signed, adding a twist of disbelief at the end. 

“She loves him?” Vadrun asked, and Kolir agreed, Eilir biting his lip slightly at that. 

Emerald yawned heavily. 

“I think I should go to bed...” Emerald said, hugging her knees, “But after today... I'm a little worried about _dreaming..._ ” 

“I'll be awake.” Vadrun offered. “Set up beside me. I'll wake you if you start to have a nightmare.” 

“Thank you.” Emerald said, setting her bedroll beside the rock Vadrun was sitting on and burrowing into her blankets, nothing visible but her wild curly hair and little button nose. She seemed to fall asleep quickly, which was a relief. Vadrun was sure that with the remains of nerves from the Orc attack she wouldn't sleep tonight even if she wasn't on watch. 

Kolir and Eilir were setting their bedrolls up nearby, and Kolir caught Vadrun's eye again. “What if he won't have her?” the white haired Dwarf signed, worry in her eyes. 

“He would be a fool.” Eilir signed emphatically. 

“He has a position and a title... he might feel he could not risk it if the King disapproves.” Kolir explained. 

“We don't know what the question is.” Vadrun signed back, “But if she wishes to return to the West I will see her safely there. I can sign on to guard a caravan, and vouch for her as a cook.” 

Emerald made a small whimpering sound and Vadrun turned, placing a gentle hand on the smaller woman's shoulder, and Emerald stilled, her breathing evening out. 

So small but so brave, traveling so far to ask a question with no idea of the answer... 

Vadrun wasn't sure, were she in Emerald's place, that she would do it. 

 

Balin sighed, looking West over the balcony railing. 

“Oh for Aule's sake!” Dwalin growled, “Just write the damn letter and send it with Bofur. Don't just _pine_ and do _nothing_.” 

His younger brother stomped back into the Mountain, and Balin bit back the retort that was on the tip of his tongue. Dwalin was right, he _had_ been thinking about his sweet Emmi, and Bofur _was_ leaving for the Blue Mountains in a week, stopping at Bag End for a visit on the way, of course. 

He really _couldn't_ write to Emmi, he knew. She would have moved on long ago, and his letter could only bring her pain... but he could write to _Bilbo_ , and maybe ask him to look up an old friend, assure him that she was doing well... 

yes... yes he _could_ do that, if he kept things vague and roundabout enough.

Balin went inside for a piece of parchment and a quill. 

He tried not to let himself hope too much, though. 

Emmi would have moved on _long_ ago. Hobbits lived so brightly, so intensely, it was part of what he loved about them so much. She would not have wasted her time waiting for him, mourning him. None of the Hobbit lasses who'd left him had waited long before marrying and starting their own big Hobbit families. She would be no different, but it would be good to hear that she was doing well for herself without him.

Emmi was the finest of Hobbit lasses, the finest lass of _any_ kind. She would not have wanted for suitors. 

Balin sat down at his desk and dipped his quill in the ink, pondering how to communicate his intent without giving away to Bilbo what Emmi might not want to be known... 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, there is more art! 
> 
> http://mianewarcher.tumblr.com/post/46981896919/dwarf-family-loves-cai-juni-bruni-oc  
> http://mianewarcher.tumblr.com/post/46990211622/emmi-and-juni-thorinsmut-oc-lady-hobbit-and-baby


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> short chapter today.

Emmi had thought the pace they traveled across Thridi's map was slow before they entered the Mountains, but it slowed further once they were in them. Paths were often narrow, and Vadrun sent guards ahead to scout for them as they all walked single-file, coaxing the ponies along when they would have balked at the treacherous paths they were taking.

In the evenings Kolir taught Emmi a few basics of knifework, so that she wouldn't be relying on luck so much if she were ever facing an Orc again.

“You'll forget this.” Kolir said, correcting Emmi's stance where she faced Eilir, both of them armed with sticks, “The instant you're against an enemy everything you know will leave your head, but if you're lucky your body will remember it, and you'll do the right thing.”

Emmi nodded, going through the simple block-disengage-attack-block drill again. She didn't think she would ever have to use this knowledge, she desperately _hoped_ she never would, but as long as Kolir was willing to teach her, she would learn it.

Vadrun had made sure that Emmi wouldn't be accidentally left behind again if they were running from Orcs, organizing with Eilir and a few of the younger Dwarves to keep an eye on her. They ran drills, practicing, and Vadrun assigned the safekeeping of Emmi to those Dwarves who were the best at holding onto her and not tripping her up or hauling her arm out of her socket.

The practicing in the evenings and the rough terrain, not to mention the weather, which was harsh and unpredictable, meant that Emmi was very tired at night... but not as tired as she had been when she was still adjusting to traveling. She was much tougher now than she had been.

Emmi wrapped herself tight in her warm wool cloak as the cold wind whistled around them in the high passes and once again was overwhelmed with gratitude for Bilbo who'd bought it for her. She would have been woefully unprepared if he hadn't made sure she had all the supplies she needed, and as she nibbled on one of her carefully rationed honey-cakes, handing the other three-quarters of it to Cai, Juni, and Bruni who were beside her, she composed in her mind the thank-you letter she would write to Bilbo.

It was a very flowery letter, and had grown very long during the course of her journey.

 

When the caravan finally descended the last hills and they were out of the Misty Mountains there was an air of celebration among the Dwarves. They'd only run into one other group of Orcs in their trip, and it had been a small one that the guards and fighters defeated quickly.

Vadrun set a guard and the caravan set up camp early along the shores of the Langwell river. Emmi joined groups splashing in the shallows and washing clothes, shocked at how much dust came out of her clothes – they'd gotten far dirtier than she'd realized!

Several discreet bathing areas were set aside and Emmi availed herself of one, noticing sadly that she was starting to be a different shape than she used to be. She'd always been properly round everywhere, but now she just _wasn't,_ or at least not as much as she used to be. Emmi worried what Balin would think of her if he saw her now, but then she shook the thought from her head. If he were the sort to care that she'd lost a little weight she wouldn't want him!

She wore her simpler dress while she wielded a needle and thread and sadly took her daffodil dress in at the chest and waist. She tried to wear her simpler dress more, so her nicer dress would still look marginally decent when she reached Erebor. It was silly and vain of her, but she was traveling _so far_ , she could at least _try_ to look good when she reached her destination.

Emmi could have eaten more of her dwindling supply of honey-cakes, but she'd had a thought in the high passes, listening to the stories of the older Dwarves who'd lived in Erebor in their youths, and she'd decided not to eat any more of them... not even if she _did_ lose a few pounds.

She joined Thridi and Eilir while they made and inventory of their food supplies, estimating how long it would have to last, how much longer their trip would be.

The fact that the ponies had all made it through the Mountains meant they were in good shape, and even often-gruff Thridi seemed pleased. With a little luck hunting as they skirted between the Gray Mountains and Mirkwood they would have plenty to reach Erebor.

Cai and the guards she'd gone hunting with returned triumphantly with a small deer, and the joyful atmosphere in camp escalated to full-blown party. Emmi helped Eilir put the less-desirable portions of the deer, (neck and shanks), over the smoke to preserve them for future stews while the main part of the deer was turned over a spit for dinner.

Musical instruments were pulled from packs and Emmi found herself learning unfamiliar dances while cheerful music was played and Dwarves laughed and sang. She danced with Eilir who blushed as he taught her the steps, and then Kolir was pulling her into another dance, then Cai another, and Bruni, and other Dwarves she knew less, both young and old, and even Vadrun – the big guard laughing aloud as she easily spun Emmi around in an energetic dance.

When Emmi fell asleep that night, her belly full of delicious roast venison and exhausted from dancing and laughing, surrounded by the snores of her friends, she wasn't sure she'd ever been so content in her life.

She knew what she had to do, and she was doing it... and sometimes it wasn't even _hard_.

 

The next day, Emmi was sore, all that dancing and laughing had used muscles she wasn't used to using anymore – she was no blushing young girl to be dancing so hard with so many partners! She was grateful for the fact that Vadrun was riding that day, and of course she offered Emmi a place behind her.

Emmi rested comfortably against the bigger woman's back, sitting astride now that she wore such a short skirt, her arms loosely around Vadrun's waist.

They rode in silence for the most part, as usual, both of them relaxed and resting.

“Emerald...” Vadrun said, quietly, when there was no one in immediate earshot.

“Yes?” she prompted, when it seemed the dark-haired guard was not going to continue.

“If...” Vadrun seemed to consider her words carefully, “If you want to travel back West, _after_... I'll come with you, if you want.”

Emmi's arms tightened unconsciously around Vadrun's waist. She'd not had to say after _what_ , if was after Emmi asked her question. She couldn't know what the answer would be.

After all, _Balin_ had left _her_ , and not the other way around... and while he'd left her because his King summoned him, he also hadn't returned or written when he might have.

It was not a possibility she liked to think about, and in truth she'd not made many plans for afterward if things went poorly.

She had supposed she'd go home, back West, but she'd not really planned _how_. She was no wilting flower to wander away and die dramatically if she were spurned, but she'd made no plans.

“Thank you.” She said quietly against Vadrun's shoulder blades, and Vadrun patted her arm comfortingly.

Emmi knew what she had to do, even if she couldn't know what the result would be... but at least she had loyal friends to look after her if it went poorly.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I caught a second wind tonight, so have another chapter!

The caravan skirted between the disturbingly dark and looming edge of the forest of Mirkwood where no-one felt comfortable, and the foot of the Gray Mountains, where the terrain was broken and harder for the ponies to navigate and they were more likely to run into Orcs. Some days they were closer to one, some days closer to the other... hunting was not terribly good, but Cai did manage to catch some game for them often enough that the caravan was not hurting for meat. 

There were still enough plants Emmi recognized for her to suppliment their supplies that way, and she'd taught a few of the energetic younger Dwarves to recognize them too, and they all got the habit of carrying a bag or something to put their harvest in as they walked. 

In the evenings the caravan was more quiet now, an undercurrent of anticipation running through them, now that they were so close to their goal. Often stories were told, and Emmi continued to learn more about Dwarven culture than she'd known she was missing. Sometimes they even asked _her_ to tell stories, and she did her best, though Hobbit stories of plants and home were not so interesting to Dwarves, just as stories of mines and treasures weren't so interesting to Emmi. 

“You're taking so well to traveling, now.” Cai commented one evening, brushing Emmi's hair while Emmi played with Juni. 

“We were once a wandering people, Hobbits.” Emmi explained, tickling Juni lightly on his neck to make him giggle that adorable little giggle of his, “Before we settled in the Shire and nearby, we were travelers. I must be drawing on that.” and then she was asked more question until she had told them all she knew of Hobbit history, what little of it there was to tell. No one knew much before the settling of the Shire, just that they had once been wanderers, spread more widely over Middle Earth, until they found the Shire and didn't want to wander anymore. 

Another night she was asked about Hobbit marriage traditions, and explained about weddings, which involved lots of flowers and the couple speaking vows to one another in front of all their friends and family... followed of course by a Hobbit-sized feast (that is to say, enormous), with lots of dancing and music as far into the night as anyone could endure. 

Dwarf weddings were quieter things, she was given to know, at their simplest an exchange of special braids behind the left ear of each partner, often with a bead of each other's house or occupation strung on them – at their most ornate, close family stood around singing while the couple did their braids... but once that was over, the after-party sounded quite a bit bigger and more raucous than Hobbit parties. 

Cai and Bruni showed her their marriage braids, teasing them out of their hair where they were normally tucked away and hidden from sight. 

Emmi touched the hair behind her ear thoughtfully, but then she stopped herself, returning her hands to her lap as the knot of worry settled in her stomach. It only got worse the closer she got to her goal. 

She knew what she had to do, and she would do it, but she couldn't _know_ what was going to happen when she got to Erebor, she didn't even know how hard it might be to _find_ Balin. 

“Time for practice!” Kolir broke into Emmi's worried introspection, and Emmi stood, accepting the stick Kolir threw her and settling into her fighting stance, ready to block or dodge whatever attack the white-haired Dwarf might throw at her. To be honest, she was far better at dodging than she was at blocking, and tended to want to dance out of the way and strike in quick from the side before her opponents could compensate. 

“Developing your own style.” Kolir had called it, with a hint of pride in her voice. Emmi knew she wasn't anywhere _near_ good enough to defend herself from an Orc on her own, she might _never_ be, but she wasn't as hopeless as she'd once been. 

 

Cai and the guards who'd been guarding her as she hunted came back to the caravan at a run, the most unreadable expressions on their faces. 

“This way!” Cai said, gesturing them uphill, “Everyone! Everyone.. .you have to see...” 

Curious, Vadrun and Thridi gave the orders, and the caravan changed course to follow the excited archer and guards. 

“Look.” Cai said, pointing South-East, tears in her eyes. 

Erebor. 

The Mountain stood, imposing for all it was shrunken by distance, and Vadrun remembered every story her mother had told her of Erebor. 

The homeland her mother had not lived to see reclaimed. 

Vadrun was not the only one wiping her eyes, a few of the older Dwarves wept openly, seeing again for the first time the home they had been driven from in their youths. 

They set up camp right at the base of the hill, and celebrated with a big bonfire. It was a quieter, more introspective celebration than the one when they'd made it through the Misty Mountains. The music was more for singing along than for dancing to. 

Thridi and Vadrun went over the map as Eilir and Emerald cooked dinner. They triangulated their position between Erebor and a few nearby peaks and decided that they had drifted a bit North of where they wanted to be... but not so far that they were in danger of wandering into the Withered Heath where it was said that Dragons still bred. 

It shouldn't take them more than three weeks to reach Erebor, and cheering broke out throughout the caravan when that was announced. 

Vadrun watched Emerald keep herself very busy, arguing affectionately with Eilir about what flavors would best complement the bean stew they were constructing, but there was an occasional slight tremor in Emerald's hands when she looked South-East, though the Mountain couldn't be seen from in camp. 

“You alright?” Vadrun asked her, quietly, hand on the Hobbit's shoulder. 

Emerald seemed to consider the question before she nodded, squaring her shoulders, her chin lifting and that familiar determined look in her eyes. 

“I know what I have to do.” she said firmly, “I did not travel so far to doubt myself.” 

Vadrun gave Emerald's shoulder a squeeze, “Good.” she said. 

After dinner, in a satisfied lull in activity before more singing, Emerald banged on the side of the empty cauldron with an iron ladle, calling for silence. 

For a moment the caravan was in uproar, with everyone shouting at everyone else to shut up and listen to Miss Emerald, but finally everyone settled and she stood with the eyes of the entire caravan on her, smiling slightly, her pack in her arms. 

“Tonight, we're celebrating seeing Erebor!” She said, to cheers, which she tried to shush, “I know it's very important to you, more than it ever could be to me.” Emerald continued, “and I know it's not much, but I have here...” She pulled a familiar wax-paper wrapped block out of her pack. Vadrun had assumed she'd finished all her honey-cakes, since she'd stopped eating them once they'd left the Misty Mountains. 

“I have here sixteen delicious honey-cakes, which is enough for everyone to have a half-piece.” 

Anything more the Hobbit might have been going to say was lost in wild cheering, which Vadrun wholeheartedly joined in on... to think Emerald had carried the cakes on her back all this way, even while she quietly mourned the loss of some of her lovely plump curves. 

In fact, Vadrun wasn't sure she'd ever seen Emerald eat a cake without sharing it with whoever was closes to her, and whenever she snacked on the dried nuts and fruits she also carried, she always offered some to those surrounding her. Generosity was not a habit, it was her _nature._ Vadrun gave Emerald a one-armed hug and a brief kiss to the top of her curly hair when she took her half-piece of cake, then stepped out of the way so the rest of the caravan could take theirs, slapping Emerald on the back, hugging her... a few of the wild younger Dwarves giving her overly-dramatic propositions of marriage, which she answered with a smack upside the head and a laugh. Kolir gently knocked foreheads with Emerald, an affectionate greeting reserved for family and those as close as kin.

Vadrun didn't know what Emerald's question was, and she didn't know Lord Balin, but she knew that any Dwarf who didn't want Emerald was a fool. 

She hoped, for Emerald's sake, that Balin was not a fool. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter now has art!  
> http://mianewarcher.tumblr.com/post/47157241610/vadrun-emmi-honey-cakes-thorinsmut-oc-a


	9. The Question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A question is asked.

Bilbo left Bofur where the miner was cheerfully decimating his pantry, shook his head at the mud that had been tracked all over his carpets, and settled into his favorite armchair with the letter Balin had sent him. 

It mostly detailed how Erebor and the Company were doing, but Bilbo smiled when he reached the more personal part of the letter. 

Balin was asking about Miss Emerald. 

She would be reaching Erebor any week now. 

Bilbo didn't know what her question was, but her love for Balin had been unmistakeable, and delicately worded as it was, Balin's care for Miss Emerald was easy to read in his letter. 

At least he was still thinking of her, just as she was still thinking of him. 

What Bilbo wouldn't give to see that reunion! 

He folded the letter and placed it on the mantlepiece, then went to try to rescue what he could of his pantry. 

 

They were a week's travel from Erebor, the Mountain looming larger over them every day, when they came to the North-Western guard station. 

They were invited to make use of the facilities there, and, for a small fee, a Raven could be sent with a message to Erebor to alert family and friends that their caravan was on its way. 

Everyone was happy to bathe and do their laundry, and everyone who had someone waiting for them in Erebor pooled their money together to send the message. 

Vadrun noticed that Emerald was not joining in, the Hobbit joined Vadrun sitting on a low stone wall, looking toward the Mountain. 

“You're not sending a message ahead?” she asked, and Emerald shook her head. 

“I can't think of what I would say that wouldn't be better said in person.” she confessed, “And I'm not even sure how to find him, 'Balin the scribe' seems a bit _vague_ of an address... I don't mind trying to find him from that, but I wouldn't want to subject a courier to that.” she smiled. 

Vadrun nodded in understanding, but while Emerald didn't know how to find Balin, Vadrun did. Any courier would have no problem finding Lord Balin, Hero of Erebor. 

Getting an _appointment_ to see the Ear of the King, that would be the difficult part. 

Vadrun caught Kolir's eye and quickly signed out of Emerald's view, “We need to have Balin meet the caravan.” 

Kolir nodded agreement and quickly recruited Cai to distract Emerald with Juni while she and Vadrun conferred with Thridi and Bruni. 

The message they ended up sending on the Raven was absolutely truthful... but somewhat misleading nonetheless. 

Emerald had traveled so far, she should not have to wait any longer to ask her question than necessary. 

 

Balin read the short message over again. It was simple enough, the caravan from Ered Luin headed by Thridi and Vadrun had met with Bilbo Baggins in Bree, and requested his presence at the Great Gate when they arrived. 

What sort of message might Bilbo have sent that would have to be delivered in person, or were Thridi and Vadrun just a bit full of themselves? 

Either way, it would be a change of pace from his days spent at the Palace, and Balin cleared his schedule for the afternoon the caravan was scheduled to arrive. 

 

Emmi bounced Juni as she walked beside Cai, looking up at the beautiful stonework of the Great Gate of Erebor. 

Everything was a bit chaotic around them, Dwarves running as they spotted their friends and family – Kolir was laughing like a girl while a burly Dwarf picked her up and spun her around, pulling Eilir into a hug with them – their family finally together again. 

“What will you do?” Cai asked. 

“I have a little gold.” Emmi said, “I'm going to get myself an inn room and take a _warm_ bath and sleep in a _real_ bed, and eat a few good meals, and then I'm going to go looking for...” 

Vadrun moved out from in front of Emmi, and her eyes fell on him. 

Balin. 

His long white beard was as lovely as ever, the two points curling up, but his eyes looked tired. 

Emmi froze as he caught sight of her, seeing his eyes widen in shocked recognition. 

This was not how it was supposed to go! She looked down at herself, at her dusty clothes, and she wasn't even wearing the cute daffodil dress she'd taken such care of, she was wearing the unevenly-hemmed simple dress that was much the worse for wear, and the breeches didn't match it, and she'd not had a bath in a week and she knew her hair was all messy and greasy, and _oh dear_ she was wearing the kerchief Cai had sewn for her and it didn't match the dress or the breeches either. 

But that didn't matter. 

She forced the thoughts away, wordlessly passing Juni to Cai and stepping forward with her shoulders squared and her chin held high. 

Emmi knew what she had to do. 

She had a question to ask that she should have asked _years_ ago, but she'd been too proper to bring it up. It wasn't the girl's place, but she'd given up being a respectable Hobbit. She would never be one again, not after leaving home to travel with strange Dwarves, regardless of his answer. 

“Emmi... lass... ” Balin breathed, half-reaching out toward her as though he didn't believe his eyes, pulling his hand back, disbelief clear on his face. 

“Balin.” Emmi answered, surprised at how steady her voice was, despite how her stomach churned. This was it. This was what she had come all this way to do. 

She knew what she had to do. 

Miss Emerald Cotman looked Balin in the eye, and asked her question. 

 

Balin waited under the Great Gate. He'd left the jewels and symbols of his position at home, so he was waiting as just _Balin_ , and not Lord Balin, Ear of the King. 

He played dice with a few of the other Dwarves waiting for the caravan. 

Dwarves came and went, and a few Men of Dale, coming and leaving with heavy wagons of trade goods. 

It was the middle of the afternoon when the caravan from Ered Luin came around the hill, it was a small one, a poor one of working Dwarves with only a few ponies and almost everyone walking. 

There were shouts as Dwarves began to recognize one another, running to crash together, cracking heads together as they laughed, falling down in impromptu wrestling matches. 

He smiled as he watched, and he stood with his hands tucked in his sleeves under his beard, waiting for Thridi and Vadrun to let him know why he was here. He was recognizable enough, even without the symbols of his office. 

A guard stomped up to him, looked down on him as she leaned on her big battleaxe. If Balin didn't have Dwalin as a brother, he might have been impressed by her sheer size. 

“I don't know what the question is,” she said gruffly, “but think _carefully_ before you answer it.” 

Before Balin could ask for any sort of an explanation she had stepped aside and he saw Emmi. 

Only it _could not be_ Emmi. 

Hobbit's _don't_ leave their homes. They don't. Bilbo had been a fluke, a lucky fluke, and even he had left for home as soon as he possibly could... but it was Emmi, Emmi beautiful and dusty and travel worn, but _Emmi_. 

It was impossible. 

There was a child in her arms. 

_oh Aule forgive him_... if he'd left her pregnant and with no way to contact him...

Emmi passed the child to a pair of Dwarves... the child didn't have any Hobbit features at all, it wasn't hers... and walked up to him. 

She was too thin, her short dress hanging loose on her, and she was wearing breeches under it. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen anything as beautiful as her in all his days, and there was iron in her wide brown eyes as she met his. Her hand rested unconsciously on the handle of a dagger at her side, clutching it for comfort. 

“Emmi...” He still could not believe that she was here. _Here_. How had she gotten her? She had walked. _Walked._ All the way to Erebor. He could have paid to have her brought to the Mountain in luxury, but she had _walked_. 

“...lass...” He wanted to touch her, to hold her, to make sure she was _real_ and never let go, but the iron in her eyes held him back. 

“Balin.” she said, calmly, “I love you. Will you marry me?” 

The big guard had said to think carefully before he answered, but there was nothing to think over. There was only one answer he could ever give to her, to his Emmi, to the finest lass of _any_ kind, who had walked to Erebor for _him_ , though he did not deserve her, could _never_ deserve her. 

“Yes, Emmi, my lass...” his voice betrayed him, choked by tears, and he reached for her, nodding as hard as he could, and she was in his arms, and he was holding her as tight as he dared, burying his face in her wild dark curls and she was crying too. 

“I missed you _so much_!” he managed to gasp out. He'd had the Mountain and and his work and more treasure than he could ever use but his life had been so _empty_. 

“Don't you leave me again.” his Emmi threatened, “I'll hunt you down _wherever_ you go!” 

“I would not dare.” he promised, “I would not...” 

He looked up, blinking the tears from his eyes to see the Dwarves she had traveled with, to see signed at him thirty emphatic variations of 'if you hurt her, I will kill you'. 

Balin nodded to them, and then tilted up her chin, wiping the tears from her beautiful brown eyes, and kissed her. 

And they were the only two people in all of Middle Earth. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue left, folks, but keep your eyes out for a side-stories fic which should contain smut, alternate endings, and various things that for various reasons didn't fit in the main work.


	10. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That's that folks, I hope you enjoyed!  
> If you want a smutty chapter set just after the last chapter, go to  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/749646/chapters/1398820

Balin sat on the wide balcony in the sun, enjoying a peaceful evening smoke with his Emmi beside him, imported Longbottom Leaf.

He smiled at his Emmi, who's hair was now as pure-white as his own.

Emmi... Lady Emerald of the line of Durin, wife to the King's Ear, and terror of the King's Court in her own right, who suffered no fools. No one wanted to be subject to the sharp side of _her_ tongue! Lady Emerald, famed for how a season fostered in her home could steady even the wildest young darrow. Lady Emerald, widely known to be the finest cook in the city of Erebor, the beloved Aunti Emmi to far too many Dwarves, and a few young Hobbits who's mother Prim blamed Emmi for their wild adventures.

Emmi – mother to five children, three of them daughters. _Three, Aule and Yavanna be thanked for this generosity_. Three strong and beautiful daughters, the Flowers of Erebor, with big curly hair, and small curly beards, and elegant pointy ears. Two already famed as diplomats despite their youth, traveling far and wide and protected always by the eternally loyal Vadrun, the third a smith of great skill. Two inseparable sons, broad-shouldered and big footed, sure with their weapons and easy with their laughter, the Heir a scholar of law, the second a master of combat.

Five children, any one of whom would be more than enough to make any parent proud.

Balin wove his fingers through Emmi's. She was still as beautiful as the day she'd proposed to him under the Great Gate, as beautiful as the first time he'd ever seen her, waiting tables so long ago and far away... as beautiful as the day he'd married her, wagonloads of flowers had been purchased from Dale, and they'd spoken vows to one another in the Hobbit way before he placed his braid behind her ear in the Dwarven way while his family and all the Company that remained sang around him, along with the Dwarves of her caravan.

The after-party was the stuff of legend, with far too much food and ale consumed, raucous singing and dancing lasting all through the night, and, as was proper, more than one fistfight.

His Emmi was still the finest lass of any kind, and he did not _know_ how an old Dwarf like him had ever managed to catch her.

“You're getting soppy again.” Emmi said, blowing a smoke ring, “I can see it in your eyes.”

“Can't help it around you, my lass.” he smiled, and she laughed the full laugh of a life well-lived.

“Stop it, you'll embarrass the children.” she chided.

“The children can look away.” he said, and pulled her in for a gentle kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with Art of BAMF Dwobbit Kids!  
> http://mianewarcher.tumblr.com/post/47317408943/five-kids-a-question-asked-in-person-epilogue  
> http://mianewarcher.tumblr.com/post/47322991406/vadrun-and-the-two-daughters-of-balin-and-emmi

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for A Question Asked In Person](https://archiveofourown.org/works/752219) by [dixid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dixid/pseuds/dixid)




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